


No One Here Can Love Or Understand Me

by allmilhouse



Category: Pete Kelly’s Blues (1956)
Genre: Asexual Character, Character Study, Dialogue Light, F/M, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-23 00:22:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23402767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmilhouse/pseuds/allmilhouse
Summary: Ivy drops in on Pete Kelly’s home early one morning. She wants to talk about their future, and he’s hung up on the past
Relationships: Pete Kelly/Ivy Conrad, past Pete Kelly/Al Gannaway
Kudos: 2





	No One Here Can Love Or Understand Me

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime before Al comes back. I might be projecting a lot of vibes onto this movie but uhhh

She was in his bed again, waiting for him, just like she was the day Joey died. This was beginning to be a habit with her. He looked at her moment, before shrugging. “Well, make yourself at home.” 

She giggled at that, in her careless flapper way. “Good morning Kelly.”

He nodded tightly, before heading over to his makeshift kitchen. He heard Ivy rise off the bed as he poured the water, and felt her light touch on his shoulder. He stayed focused on his task. 

“I missed you.” Light the gas, strike the match. “I stopped by Rudy’s last night but you weren’t there.” Her voice was light enough but there was an edge to it, and he found it a relief to duck down to get the tea leaves from the bottom shelf. 

“Had to duck out early. Band business.” Another meeting with other bandleaders at Fat Annie’s. They were getting more frequent, and more heated. None of them could agree on what to do about McCarg, and the blows were getting lower and more personal. 

”Will you be there tonight?”

”Don’t know yet.” McCarg had a way of renting them out for odd gigs, something Pete used to protest. But there were a lot of things he used to protest. Besides that, he couldn’t handle the back room at Rudy’s anymore. It felt haunted, and in a way, it was.

She sensed the tension, and smiled patiently at him. “I wish I could help you. Just say the word, and I’ll do anything.”

He stalled as he straightened up. He could marry her, and get away from everything. Get her away from everything too. Take off for the coast, or even Europe. Go somewhere safe, where gangsters and rum runners had no influence. 

She looks at him, derailing his thoughts. She studies his face, searching for answers he knows aren’t there, her own face a quiet study in confusion. She doesn’t understand him, and he knows. He scarcely recognizes himself these days. 

“Listen,” he starts, before fumbling again. The band’s playing but he can’t figure out the key. “I play hot jazz in cold basements. You’re a stand-up dame who should sit this one out.” 

“What if I told you I loved you?”

He shrugs again, like he was waiting for this. Her eyes haven’t left his, but he can’t quite tell if she’s lying or not. He can only hope she is. 

Aside from his mother, Pete had never told anyone that he loved them. He made it through the War without acquiring a sweetheart, and even now he wasn’t exactly Kansas City’s most eligible bachelor, mostly by design. Relationships could get complicated. Just look at Al. 

Pete frowned. He thought of long car rides, hopping between gigs at different gin joints and speakeasies all along both sides of the river, Al’s big arm wrapping around his thin shoulders as they sang loudly with the band, sheltering him from the cold night air. Sometimes, if he was sure the fellas weren’t paying attention, Al would lean in for a kiss. It never really progressed beyond that, even those years on the road, two guys travelling in empty train cars. 

Even now, alone with a beautiful woman in his apartment, and all he could think to do was offer her a cup of tea. He busied himself again, doubling down his attention on the pot, on the clean but chipped mug, on his dusty stove, anywhere but Ivy’s bright, beautiful face. 

_”Take five for me sometime,”_ Al had said, and Pete watched him go. Pete had lost a lot these last few weeks, pretty much everyone but Ivy and Fred. He’d left the window open but the birds wouldn’t fly. 

His expert hands stayed still as he poured the tea. Ivy took one polite sip before taking both of their mugs, placing them on the table, and pulling Pete down for a kiss. It was good, and she was a sweet kid, but it didn’t seem like the kind of thing to throw your life over for. 

But then, he’d been making compromises all over town. Losing a chunk of the band, taking on a singer, playing gigs they had no business playing. And so he kissed her back.


End file.
